


His Demons

by craycraygrl



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Langst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-12-01 04:18:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11478444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/craycraygrl/pseuds/craycraygrl
Summary: This was originally just about me and my demons but I thought it would be great as a Langst fic instead. So I basically just changed one section and put 'he' instead of 'she'. Anyways, hope you guys like it!





	His Demons

He wasn't scared of the dark. 

Neither was he afraid of what or who might be in it. 

No. 

It was what he had to face in the dark that scared him. And what he had to face was his own self. 

His inner self. 

The version of him that only came out at night. 

The thoughts that only let themselves be heard in the cover of the night. 

They would crawl into his brain until he could bear no more and screamed out for help.

Of course it was always a silent scream.

No need to worry anyone. He could at least be considerate. But sometimes he wished desperately to call out to someone. 

Someone he could tell everything to. 

Of course there was no such person who, he thought, could handle everything. 

So he talked to the ceiling. 

About everything and anything. 

Because apparently, the ceiling was a very good listener. It never told him to shut up or go away. 

It never talked at all actually but maybe it was just being considerate and didn't want to interrupt him.

Still, he wanted more than anything to talk to a real person about these thoughts in her head. But he resisted it for the most part. 

And once, and only once, did he ever speak to someone about his thoughts. Because that, he thought, was all they could handle.

Why bother anyone about those thoughts when they have their own to worry about?

He thought about telling his parents but then he would have to tell them everything and even they could not handle everything. 

That would only hurt them and he loved them too much for him to hurt them like that. 

So he faced his demons by himself.

Of course he did try to distract himself. He tried so very hard to think of anything but these thoughts. 

But he sometimes failed and they took over.

Saying that he was stupid.

No.

That he was obnoxious. 

Stop.

He was annoying.

It wasn't true.

He was pathetic.

He tried to think of something.

He was only a disturbance.

Anything. 

He was useless.

Anything but those thoughts.

There was no point in his existence.

Please, he begged.

No one loved him.

Please...

But soon he feels he can't fight them anymore. 

And just like every other time his thoughts invade, he falls.

He believes all these thoughts that have taken over his mind to be true.

He was everything they said and more.

He was stupid. 

He was obnoxious. 

He was annoying. 

He was pathetic. 

He was a disturbance.

He was useless.

There was no point in his existence.

No one loved him.

He cries. 

He cries and cries into the night.

He wanted nothing more than for someone to wrap their arms around him and tell him it was ok.

That he was loved.

That he was enough.

But no one ever comes. And no one listens.

And that is his fault.

He screams but no one hears that either.

Help. Help me, he screams.

But no one ever does.

Because no one ever did.

No one would ever come to save him from his demons.

So he screams to God.

Begging.

Pleading.

Help me. 

Because he wasn't strong enough.

He never was and he never had been.

Tgat was just the mask he wore so no one would worry.

Because his problems were pathetic.

Because he was pathetic.

So please, he says. Please help me. 

He waits.

For what he doesn't know. But He does not answer. Or if He did answer, he did not hear it.

And in that moment he feels small.

Small and insignificant.

He (God) has other things to worry about. 

How could he possibly ask for His(God's) help?

But he does.

He's desparate for help.

So he talks to Him.

He tells Him everything and anything because really, what did he have to lose?

And soon after he finishes talking to God, he calms down and remembers how to breathe normally again.

He tries to fall asleep but he can't.

So he turns onto his back and he starts talking to the ceiling again. 

Because apparently, the ceiling is a very good listener.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [His Demons](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11496345) by [orphan_account](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account)
  * [his demons](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13863777) by [Dacookielover](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dacookielover/pseuds/Dacookielover)




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